


Blood Spilled (But None Wasted)

by Detective4



Series: Fate Would Have Us Find Each Other (Dead or Alive) [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, Dragon Dan Wilds, Dragons, Drinking, Eden's Twilight, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Guns, Half-Vampires, Homelessness, Human Neil Josten, Hurt Neil Josten, Knives, M/M, Married Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Matt Boyd & Neil Josten Friendship, Mystical Creatures, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Oblivious Neil Josten, On the Run, Protective Andrew Minyard, Protective Matt Boyd, Scenting, Slow Burn, Smut, Stitches, Supernatural Elements, Underage Drinking, Vampire Aaron Minyard, Vampire Andrew Minyard, Vampire Bites, Vampires, Werewolf Kevin Day, Werewolf Roland, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:07:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29457237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detective4/pseuds/Detective4
Summary: Neil licked his lips and Andrew’s gaze tracked the movement with the efficiency of a predator. Neil glanced at the fangs again, then down to his bare forearm, then to the fuzzy carpet that laid under the coffee table.“Neil,” Andrew’s voice was firm, demanding complete attention. Neil met his eyes once again, encapsulated, “You can say no.”Neil shook his head lightly. Took a deep breath.“I want to,” And he was surprised that he wasn’t lying.--Neil accepts a deal to exchange his blood for extra cash. It goes both exactly the way he expects, and veers totally off track.
Relationships: Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: Fate Would Have Us Find Each Other (Dead or Alive) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163666
Comments: 26
Kudos: 241





	Blood Spilled (But None Wasted)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's day!!!  
> Or, at least, that's what I wanted to say when I uploaded this. But, alas, I finished it late. So...Happy half-off chocolate day?  
> I am alive and well, still writing, still doing my best, I've just been busy busy busy  
> I'd like to mention that The Risks I Take To Stay fic, if you haven't already guessed, is on hiatus for a while, but I really do want to finish it. I worked out how it ends, so I want to get to the conclusion, but there's a ton of new projects I'm working on and those are taking priority right now. Thank you for your patience!!  
> I started writing this for prince_complex, as I do with most things, because they are Obsessed with vampires, but I might have gotten a little too into it myself..  
> This will be a three part series!! Please enjoy!!

Nathaniel sat in the dark, staring at the vaguely visible outline of his high school diploma splayed across the cement floor and buried under a colorful map of the city and rejected job application forms. His knees knocked together as he sat huddled in his baggy grey hoodie, ducking his head against the icy breeze that drifted in through the broken window. This house wasn’t the best place to spend a January night, but it was in convenient walking distance from the important buildings and better than the park bench he slept on last night.

At least it wasn’t snowing. 

He blinked his eyes harshly to try and keep the dizziness at bay, pulling a recently purchased granola bar from his pocket. Nathaniel was running out of money fast, and the closest available stash was in Illinois. He was surviving, but just barely.

He let out a long breath through his nose, the air fogging up in front of him like condensation on a mirror. Like after a hot shower. When was the last time he’d had one of those?

Nathaniel shook his head lightly and winced at the lightning bolt of pain that shot through his skull. He tore open the blue and white package with shaking fingers and pulled it halfway down the bar. With slow precision, as if performing a ritual, he pulled his small, metal, ornately carved lighter from his jeans and lit the end of the granola. 

He stared into the flickering flame, the fire eating up the food greedily, starving. Nathaniel felt its anger, its ferocity, its unapologetic will to survive. And with a puff of breath from his chapped and bleeding lips, he killed it.

“Happy birthday, Junior,” Bitter resentment filled his mouth. With nowhere to escape, it trickled down his throat, carved its way into his bloodstream, and surrounded his heart.

Nathaniel’s last meal tasted like burnt chocolate and resignation.

\--

Neil Josten awoke a full 15 hours later and regretted the fact that he did. His vision swam in front of him and his entire body shook like a small dog nervous to go to the vet. In a brief moment of insanity, he wondered if it’d be cheaper to go to a vet rather than a hospital. 

He laid there for a few more minutes, granting himself the brief gift of imagining staying and letting the cold and animals get to him until he didn’t have to worry anymore. Until there was nothing left of him but bones picked clean and a partially melted granola bar wrapper. A relieved smile on his blue lips as birds pecked his eye sockets empty and raccoons tore out his insides.

Soon enough though, his morbid fantasies were interrupted by phantom fingers pulling at his hair, stiff from too much bleach and not enough washes. Sharp fingernails pinching harshly at his sides, ribs almost within reach. A harsh voice hissing next to his icy ear, _stay alive!_

Neil pushed himself into a standing position despite his aching limbs, and tried his best to brush off dead leaves and dust from his clothes. The dirt clung as if reminding him of where he came from. As if he could ever forget.

He bent over to unzip his duffel bag and pulled out a slightly cleaner, but also thinner, sweatshirt. Neil changed as quickly as he could, his skin breaking out in goosebumps and every brush of fabric cutting into him like Lola’s knives. He fished out his second to last water bottle and silently mourned the loss of drinking water as he splashed some of it on his hands and cleaned his face vigorously. 

He had job hunting to do today. A game where the stakes were life and death.

\--

Neil didn’t have a cellphone. Or a laptop. Or wifi. So he spent half his time at the library and half his time manually walking through town and going door to door, eyes peeled for bright red signs proudly proclaiming, “We’re Hiring!”

Four hours later, he was starving, exhausted, and had progressed from shivering to full out trembling. But his hands were full of applications to fill out.

Neil eyed a cafe enviably as he passed by. It was brightly lit and only two of its tables were occupied. The people inside laughed and drank their coffee and took off their coats in the blessed heat of company. Neil felt his feet halt of their own accord. His chest _ached_. He never thought he'd say he missed high school, but the months of not being constantly surrounded by _people_ , teachers who expected him there for class the next day, students who asked him questions about the homework when they saw the grades he’d get, people who made him feel _real_. Substantial. Like they’d notice if he was gone.

People to distract him from the hollow, ugly, gaping _emptiness_ that had burrowed into his chest since his mother died. It was strange, being on his own. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to it. 

He knew it was illogical. But something about that cafe...He felt as if he stepped in there, all his problems would be solved. That maybe he could enter the building and somehow soak up the warmth and laughter that the people flung out around them as if they had excess. As if they didn’t need every scrap they could get. As if they had never had to live without it. 

Neil’s skin was hot, his fingers frozen where they clutched the application forms, and his stomach sat silently, gnawing at itself in peace, used to being ignored. 

Neil took a stabilizing breath, the air tearing through his throat like ice shards. He reached out red fingers to grasp the door handle. And he pulled.

\--

An inviting heat swept over his shaking bones, wafting through the spaces between his fingers and up through his dark hair. An intoxicating smell of coffee and bread greeted him like an old friend. Neil released his breath. 

He readjusted the strap of his duffel on his shoulder and dug in his pocket for some of the cash he had left. He figured they wouldn’t let him stay in here without buying anything, and it’d be nice to have somewhere warm to fill out applications. He ordered a breakfast sandwich at 6 at night and silently rejoiced at the fact that he could get a cup of water here for free. 

“Name for the order?”

“Neil,” Neil responded. And it was true.

He found a booth tucked away in a corner and laid the papers out in front of him. The worn leather of the seat caressed his sore shoulders and he let himself lay his head back for a brief second. He was alive. It was going to be fine.

Neil dug through his bag for a pen, searching every nook and cranny, his hand wandering inside the canvas blind. He stared at his hand in dismay when it came back empty.

It felt like no time had passed at all when his name was called at the front, and he gratefully headed in that direction to receive his food. 

“Here you are,” The man in front of him smiled, caramel hair curling at his brow.

“Thank you, uh,” Neil swallowed, his throat feeling tight, “Do you have a pen I could borrow?”

“Hm? Oh, for sure!” The man reached into a cup laid next to the register, pulling out a fuzzy pink pen among all the plain black ones surrounding it.

Neil took it with the hand not holding his sandwich, looking at the tip dubiously.

“It still writes in black, don’t worry. I just think it’s neat,” The cashier tucked a piece of hair behind his pierced ear, “You look like you could use a fun pen right now.”

“Thank...Thank you,” Neil slid it behind his ear without a second thought and grabbed his cup of water.

Twenty minutes later he had written his name so many times that his hand cramped and pink glitter was scattered over the tabletop. But Neil no longer doubted his name. He flinched suddenly when a foreign hand appeared in his peripheral vision. It retreated instantly.

“I’m so sorry! Did I scare you?”

Neil blinked a few times at his clear plastic water cup, before moving his gaze up to the cashier from earlier. His brain was sluggish, but he slowly put together the fact that the man had been refilling his cup with water from a curved pitcher. His eyes caught on the name tag pinned onto a light salmon t-shirt. ‘Nicky’. 

“I was just a bit distracted, sorry,” Neil ran a hand through his hair and withheld a wince when it got caught on snarls. 

Nicky leaned over the table to look over the papers laid in front of Neil. “Job hunting, huh? How’s that going for you?”

“Not great,” Neil gathered up the paper in a neat pile, pulling his half eaten sandwich closer to him to finish. Most of them didn’t offer liveable wages, and the ones that did, wouldn’t hire him. Not with his ragged sweatshirt and high school degree. “You wouldn’t happen to be hiring, would you?” 

Neil had only been half serious, but Nicky’s face fell like he’d just seen an injured stray and was just told he couldn’t take him in. Neil spoke up again before Nicky could douse him with pity, “It’s alright. I’ll manage.”

“Well, where are you working now?”

“Nowhere.” 

“Do you live with your parents still?”

“I’m 19.”

“How are you getting food?” Neil could practically hear Nicky’s heart breaking.

“I’ve got money.”

Nicky didn’t look like he believed him. He hesitated a couple seconds and Neil could see gears turning and twisting in his head, “Listen...I’ve got a cousin. Who’s hiring.”

Neil was unimpressed, but he was _just_ desperate enough to ask after more information, “For what?”

The cashier scratched his neck, “Well. So. It would pay really well, and you’d only be needed like once a week, and there’s no degree necessary.”

Neil narrowed his eyes dangerously. He didn’t know what this man was trying to imply, but it sounded a lot like prostitution. And Neil wasn’t that desperate yet. He didn’t think. “What’s the job?”

His voice may have contained a little more steel than he intended, because Nicky winced slightly. But he carried on valiantly, “So, like…You know vampires?”

\--

Vampires.

Neil had left the cafe with a full stomach, half finished papers, and a name and number written on the back of his hand. Andrew Minyard. The man who apparently wanted to buy him for his blood. 

Neil had other options. He really did. Ones that didn’t involve creeps biting at his neck, thinking they were some kind of undead mythological creature. However, the prices Nicky discussed with him...He could buy groceries. He could buy clothes. He could even start living out of a motel until he could save up enough to find his way to Illinois. It was...Hard to believe.

Well, no, it wasn’t. Neil knew what kind of money freaks would pay to get their darkest desires. Neil just never thought drinking blood would be one of them. 

His teeth chattered as he returned to the scooped out skeleton of a house he stayed in. He jammed his heavier hoodie over the one he was already wearing and pulled on two more pairs of socks. He felt cold in a way that a thousand blankets couldn’t breach. His stomach, instead of feeling thankful for the meal it had gotten, clawed at his skin in irritation. 

Neil curled up on his side, holding his arms close to himself as the last sparks of sun ducked under his window sill. Tomorrow was Friday. He couldn’t feel his legs anymore and his vision was streaked with black. Neil didn’t think he’d last much longer.

\--

Ideally, Neil would’ve spent Friday morning and afternoon handing in his applications and walking around to get blood to flow back into his toes. In reality, Neil couldn’t find it in himself to get off the hard concrete beneath him. His head felt unbearably heavy and his limbs refused to be convinced to move. He flickered in and out of consciousness for hours, eyelashes fluttering and fingers twitching. Eventually, a small, barely there voice in his head reminded him that if he didn’t get up now, he wouldn’t be getting up again. 

He felt like crying as he pushed himself to stand, felt like letting go and letting sobs take him and wreck him until he was nothing but a shaking mess of bones huddled against the wall. Broken. 

He let a few tears escape as he pulled off his extra socks and shoved on his shoes. Let a whimper escape his cold lips as he took off both his sweatshirts and slipped only the heavy one back on. Allowed his body to tremble as he hefted his duffel bag onto its familiar place on his shoulder. Then he bottled it back up inside himself and pushed it down, hard. 

He didn’t have a phone and he didn’t have money for a payphone, so the ink on his hand was useless to him. But he knew who gave it to him. And his legs led him back, to the only place he could think of going. 

\--

“Neil! Don’t you own a coat?”

The bell jingled above him as he pulled open the door with numb fingers. Nicky’s face flickered between delight at seeing Neil back so soon, concern at his state of dress and pale skin, and nervousness over his previous offer. 

Neil sighed in visible relief as the comforting warmth of the cafe enveloped him. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking and he had exactly zero dollars, so there was no point in pretending that he didn’t come here for a very specific reason. He walked up to the counter with no preamble, “I’ll meet with your cousin.”

“You’ll...That’s- That’s great!” Nicky’s eyes flickered in surprise before glimmering in excitement, “I’ll text him right now! He’s working tonight, but I’ll bring you by and you guys can talk. This is gonna be so good for him, I can’t believe-”

“I didn’t say I’ll take the job yet. And who knows if your cousin even wants me,” Neil shrugged and pushed his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets, fingers grasping each other for heat.

Nicky’s dark brown eyes lifted from his phone to trace down Neil’s body briefly, before coming back up again, “He’ll want you.”

Neil wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean.

Ten minutes later and Neil was huddled in the passenger seat of Nicky’s blue car, headed to a nightclub where this Andrew apparently worked. The heater was on full blast, and looking at Nicky’s puffy white winter coat, Neil knew it was for his benefit. 

“Andrew’s kinda scary at first, but don’t let that deter you. He was clearly interested in your offer. He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

“ _My_ offer?” 

Nicky laughed nervously, “Uh, yeah. So, I’m kinda not supposed to tell people about him being a vampire and all...He was gonna be majorly pissed at me, so I told him that it was your idea.”

Neil stared at his shoes, trying to figure out what that changed about this meeting. Would he have to act like he knew what he was doing? Did this mean he was supposed to know vampires existed? 

“-That you had been looking for a vampire to hire you and were having a hard time finding one, so I suggested Andrew. He was sorta mad at me anyway, ‘cause he doesn’t think he needs someone for this, but he always says that shit. And you needed the money, so it’s really just a win-win situation, right?”

Neil tuned out Nicky’s rambling as his own mind raced. He was suddenly far more anxious about this meeting. He was supposed to walk up to some dude who thought he was a vampire in a crowded club and act like this was his first choice? That he was _looking_ for this?

It didn’t make sense, but it made him feel odd. Dirty. Made his feet itch to run to spare himself the shame of offering his neck up to some strange man. His limbs felt like lead and his ears might’ve been starting to ring, but as he opened his mouth to protest, they pulled into the parking lot of the club. 

‘Eden’s Twilight’. It was now or never.

\--

Neil certainly didn’t miss the odd looks he got from the party goers within the club. It might’ve been because of the less than festive clothes he was wearing, but it was so dark and disorienting in the building, that he wondered why anyone noticed. 

He followed closely behind Nicky, keeping his gaze fixed on the back of his sparkling shirt. Occasionally it would catch the multicolored lights shining down from the ceiling and blind Neil’s eyes, but it was something to focus on. He jumped as a hand brushed his waist, but when he turned to catch who it was, the person had already blended back in with the crowd. It was probably just somebody who needed to get by him. 

They reached the bar without much more fanfare, and Nicky snagged a stool for himself. Neil stood slightly behind him, not thinking it worth it to try and wedge himself between more people. Nicky craned his neck and brightened as he seemed to find what he was looking for. He turned his face back to Neil and shouted a little to be heard over the music, “Andrew’s helping some people right now, but his break should start soon.”

Neil barely finished his nod before an arm wrapped around his shoulders from behind. A hand pressed against his clavicle and pulled him into a firm chest in one fluid movement. Neil was so startled and confused, he didn’t even have time to flinch, his head bouncing off the taller man’s collarbone. A nose nuzzled into his hair and breathed in deep. 

“A human? Here? In my fine establishment?” A smooth voice intoned over his head. It sounded like he was smiling, “A friend of yours, Nicky?”

Nicky blinked at him in surprise, before grinning broadly, “I just met him recently, actually! He’s looking for a blood bag job.”

The man behind him propped his chin on Neil’s head, thumb stroking idly over the protruding line of Neil’s collarbone, “A vampire’s toy? Shame...You know, I’ve been looking for a rut partner myself. I’d pay you the same, and I bet it’d be a lot more fun.”

It seemed the man was addressing Neil, but he was understanding less and less of this conversation as time went on. He stopped for a moment to question why he hadn’t felt the instinctive and reactive need to shove the man away from him, but the smell of heady alcohol and something floral seemed to float around him, and his already foggy mind drifted farther out of his reach. 

Nicky snorted, “Aw, c’mon man. You guys go out of your way to talk about how harmful all the sexualized stereotypes about you are, then you turn around and make ‘em yourself.”

“Hey, I’m just saying them before anyone else can. And I don’t know, there could be some truth to those myths...Around the same time every month, I do feel the intense urge to find something warm and wet and _rut_ myself into-” The man’s hips canted forward to slot himself against Neil’s hips and okay, yeah, that broke him out of his haze.

“Roland. Hands off that one.”

A voice cut through the music of the club so clearly that Neil thought the music had been shut off for a second. Roland’s hands loosened around him and Neil immediately took the chance to push off him and take several steps away, his face heated and breath caught in his throat. 

“Aw, Andrew? Kid’s gonna be _your_ food? I was just starting to feel a bit hungry myself…” Roland’s grin was sultry and feral, all desire and no sense. 

“Fucking mutts. Never learned to keep your paws to yourself, did you?” Andrew crossed his arms as he stepped closer to the counter.

“You didn’t seem to mind this _mutt_ not too long ago. How did my blood taste again? Dangerous and forbidden? Something sweet that burned on the way down?”

“Like wet dog. I’m taking my break, so go get your apron, you mongrel.”

Roland rolled his eyes, “Whatever,” He turned back to Neil, who was staring hard between the two as he attempted to keep up.

“If you get bored of this bloodsucker, just remember. I have fangs too,” Roland flashed a smile that filled his vision with sharp teeth, “And an actual beating heart to go with it.”

Andrew and Roland traded places as the latter headed to the back to get ready. Andrew walked past Neil without a glance and continued on, seemingly with a set destination in mind. Nicky whined about not getting to order a drink yet, despite the fact that he drove Neil here, but stood up to follow after Andrew. Neil took that as his cue to move as well.

Neil’s mind was still caught on the conversation from before. What did Andrew mean by mutt? All the dog related insults? And why did Roland specifically call him out as human? As if _he_ himself was not. Was he trying to insinuate…? No. That couldn’t be it. That sort of stuff doesn’t exist. How could they talk so openly about it? Roland coming up and sniffing him and talking about ‘ruts’, of all things. It came across so normal to all of them. 

Neil caught up with them again at a more secluded table towards the back of the club, a place where they could talk to each other without worrying about the volume of the music. He sat on the chair next to Nicky and met eyes with Andrew across the table, trying to distract himself from the spinning of his head by focusing on the pale green of his eyes. He watched Andrew’s eyes flick down towards Neil’s hands, fingers tangled together on the sticky table. Watched him catalogue the weaving scars and burns there, watched his gaze sweep over the scars dotting his face. Neil thought he saw a flicker of what looked like interest cross Andrew’s eyes, but it could have been an odd reflection of the strobe lights reaching over their table from the dance floor. 

They continued to stare each other down, both men taking in the posture of the other, the details of their clothing, the expression they wore or hid. Silence reigned, neither one wanting to be the one to break it first. 

Nicky didn’t have the same reservations, “So. How is he?”

Neil reluctantly broke his staring contest with Andrew to look at Nicky, bemused. 

“He’ll do.”

It was only when Andrew answered that Neil realized he was being discussed like a product. He felt indignation rise up through his core and spill out his throat, “Hey, ‘he’ can talk for himself.”

Andrew dismissed his annoyed expression with a bored one of his own, “You weren’t asked a question.”

“But _shouldn’t_ I have been? This is _my_ body we’re talking about, is it not?”

Nicky raised his hands between them as if to block off the sight of Andrew from him, “Hey, hey, let’s calm down here. I’m sorry, Neil, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Neil was still angry, but Nicky’s apology sounded sincere. Without quite meaning to, he felt himself back down. As Neil moved his eyes up from Nicky’s hands, he realized the amount of stares their table was getting from quite a few patrons. Which Neil thought was especially odd for a nightclub. It wasn’t as if it was quiet and well-lit in here. Didn’t these people in their glittery outfits have something better to do? “Why are so many people looking at us?”

Nicky seemed grateful for the change of subject, “Ah, that would have to do with the small fact of your humanity. I used to get the same looks, believe me. Well, still do sometimes, with those who don’t know me as well, but hey, it’s a great conversation starter!”

Neil blinked at Nicky’s grin and glanced at Andrew to see if this was making any sense to him either. The man in question was sitting back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, eyes watching Neil’s face closely. “Human?”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like humans aren’t allowed in here, but not many know about this place. You have to be invited specifically by a member of the community. I’m cousins with the twins, so. You know, automatic invite,” Nicky laughed, seemingly not comprehending the boundlessness of Neil’s confusion. 

“Community..?” _Twins?_

“Of the supernatural,” Andrew intoned, drawing Neil’s eyes back to his, eyes sharper than the last time he checked, “I was told you were aware?”

“I-” Neil felt a reminder pop in the back of his head, causing him to blink in surprise. He was supposed to be acting as if he already knew this stuff. Would it hinder his ability to get this job if he didn’t know what was going on? “Of course. I just wasn’t aware this club was exclusive.”

Andrew didn’t relax completely, but he moved on nonetheless, “How much?”

Neil opened his mouth to respond before he even knew what he was responding to, “I-...For-...Oh! The. Blood.”

Andrew’s mouth twitched, “Yes. The blood.”

Neil scowled at having his stammering repeated back at him, “Once a week, right? Nicky kinda discussed a price range, but it seemed pretty high, so I don’t know how accurate it was…”

“$100.”

Neil blinked, “A month?”

“A week.”

“Oh,” Neil was already calculating it in his head, he’d need maybe $90 a week for a shitty motel room, so that wasn’t on the table quite yet. He could last a month on $50 worth of groceries, and shouldn’t take much more than maybe $75 for clothes? If he wanted some more work appropriate attire. He couldn’t get more than could fit in his duffel anyways. And that was a one time expense. He should probably stock up his first aid supplies pretty soon, he only had one roll of gauze left, and absolutely no alcohol. He should probably grab something for his fever sooner than later, though he didn’t know how much that would help if he was still sleeping out in the cold...Maybe he could spend a few nights in a motel to rest, he definitely needed to save up for that bus ticket though…

“...-eil? Neil? Hello? You feeling alright?”

Neil blinked rapidly, willing the fuzziness to dissipate from his vision. He followed Nicky’s hand waving in front of his face to a tan arm, then up to concerned dark eyes. He furrowed his eyebrows and shifted his gaze to the blond man across from him, dark grey eyes (or are they blue?) narrowed in what could be suspicion. 

Neil struggled to remember the question, “Yes? Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. A hundred works.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re sweating a bit,” Nicky leaned closer to him.

“I’m just a little warm in here. Where would we be meeting for...This?”

Andrew raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object to the avoidance, “You’ll come to my apartment. Does tomorrow evening work for you?”

His apartment. Neil really wished there was a neutral place they could meet up for this, especially for the first few times. He could be walking into a potential serial killer’s homebase, virtually defenseless. Though, Neil guessed there wasn’t really a neutral place to have someone drink your blood...And he’d survived _living_ with a serial killer. He’d be fine. Saturday it was.

\--

Neil’s whole body felt like it was vibrating as he stood in front of the address Andrew had given him last night. His hands shook and his jaw clenched and his knees trembled and he couldn’t tell how much was from nerves and how much was from how light-headed and hungry he felt right now. 

He had woken up an hour ago surprised he was alive, as he had for the past week. Of course, he had absolutely planned on living, but he wasn’t sure if his body was on the same page with him. He had apparently slept 17 hours and felt like he could sleep 30 more. He had sweat through the clothes he’d been sleeping in and was forced to change into his light grey hoodie and suffer on the walk over. And he hadn’t eaten since...Yesterday? The day before? So he had drained the last of his water bottle and tried to keep his eyes open as he got ready to meet with a...What had Roland called him? A bloodsucker. Alone.

He wasn’t feeling too great.

The apartment complex was in a better part of town than where Neil’s humble abode rotted, so it had been a bit more of a walk than he had hoped. It was sleek and modern, with crystal clear windows and sparkling sidewalks lining the front of it. Neil knew he’d stick out.

He now stood in front of a door labeled ‘300’. His three decisive knocks felt like they split the knuckles of his oversensitive skin. He reflexively checked for blood, found none, and turned his hand to inspect the underside of his fingernails too. Clear. 

_She’s gone, Neil._

The door swung open and Neil’s eyes snapped up to meet green. Gray. Neil took in black sweatpants and a tight black t-shirt as Andrew leaned against the door frame. _He really takes this vampire thing to the extreme, huh?_

He watched Andrew’s chest expand as the man took a deep breath, stilled, and commanded, “Go home.”

Neil’s head reeled up to meet his eyes so fast that he almost lost his balance, steadying himself at the last second, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I-. What the fuck? You told me today! You can’t just call it off, just like that!” _I need the money, I need the money, I’m not gonna survive another night, I need-_

“I just did. Go home. And drink some water,” Andrew stepped back and managed to get the door half way to shut before Neil wedged his foot in between it and the frame. 

“Drink some-? What the fuck is your deal? We agreed on this _last night._ I need that money _today_.”

Andrew didn’t let up the force of the door on his foot, and Neil withheld a grimace thinking about the bruise it would leave. Nevertheless, the blond’s decisive gaze shifted to contemplated and he quested, “Why?”

“For _food_ , jackass.”

Andrew’s eyes traced down over Neil’s ragged hoodie, his dirty jeans, his tattered sneakers. His voice was irritatingly nonchalant, “Are you homeless?”

Neil’s jaw clenched, a muscle spasming as he fought the urge to deck the pale man in front of him. It was an astonishingly long jump to make from the fact that he was hungry, and Neil was in aggravated awe at his audacity.

“Why? My fashion choices not to your taste?”

Neil waited for a reaction. Waited for the door to slam on his foot again, for Andrew to simply leave the room, for the man to do _something._

But he just stared. Waiting for an answer to his question. 

Neil’s face _burned_ , and this time it wasn’t from his fever. He grit his teeth, “Fine. What does it have to do with anything?” 

Andrew nodded like his reply was expected, which only served to piss Neil off more, and reopened the door fully. “I’m not paying you for service you don’t provide.”

Neil stared at the open doorway in bewilderment as Andrew turned and headed into his kitchen. He stood there for a full sixty seconds while Andrew made noise with some kind of glassware and metal can, completely uncomprehending of what was going on.

“Are you,” Neil began, feeling stupid, “Letting me in?”

“Well, I’m sure as fuck not kicking you out, seeing how the door is still open,” Came the call from the kitchen.

Neil’s eyebrows furrowed as he took hesitant steps into the apartment. He shut the door behind him quietly and looked around. It was annoyingly modern and impersonal just like the rest of the building. Sleek black couch, large flat screen TV, large glass doors leading out to a balcony overlooking the street. Neil would’ve thought he was in a hotel room if not for the two picture frames nestled on the TV stand, and a bookshelf that was stuffed so full of books that they were wedged in anyway they could fit. 

Neil moved to examine the shelf, fingers tracing over titles of well-worn, crinkled books of multiple sizes and colors. There was everything from Shakespeare to Harry Potter packed into the tall shelf, and Neil stared in amazement at the dustless surface. It was used often.

He moved onto the TV stand, crouching down to look at the first picture to the left. He blinked in surprise as he recognized the disorienting interior of Eden’s Twilight. It was better lit than it usually was and there didn’t seem to be many people inside. The picture depicted three people gathered around the bar, surrounding two standing behind it. In black aprons stood Andrew and Roland, Andrew scowling at the camera as Roland posed vicariously with a large bottle of liquor. Sitting on a bar stool to the left of Roland was Nicky, grinning at the camera with a peace sign thrown up between him and...An exact copy of Andrew.

_Twins._

Right.

The Andrew body double was leaning back against the counter, arms crossed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. And finally, to the far right was a man he’d never seen before. Sporting dark hair and in the middle of throwing back a shot, a tall, built man sat. Neil wondered who he was and whether he hated this photo because of the odd face he was making when it was taken. Neil wondered if the picture was kept up out of spite. 

Neil turned the frame around and found it dated a year ago. It was labelled _“Eden’s opening”._

Neil set it back where he found it and picked up the photo that sat to the right of the TV. In it, was Andrew again. Only this time he stood in what looked like a gym, wearing a black, loose-fitting tank top and black armbands that sat snugly from wrist to elbow. He was sweaty and his hair was pushed back from his face as he took a drink from a water bottle. 

Across from him was a woman in a similar state, sitting in a butterfly stretch and mouth open mid-word. She was dressed in light pink leggings and a form-fitting white tank top. White hair escaped haphazardly from its ponytail and rainbow dyed tips brushed her jawline. They were angled towards each other, eyes focused as if in the middle of an important conversation.

This photo was dated only a few months ago, and written in neat cursive was: _“One year of sparring matches.”_

“Snooping around already?”

Neil nearly jumped out of his skin, but he forced himself to stand up and turn around slowly, nails digging into palms in an attempt to calm his breathing. He opened his mouth to reply before his eyes got caught on the bowl and plate in Andrew’s hands. He raised an eyebrow at the sandwich and soup, eyes searching Andrew’s face for any sort of clue as to what the fuck was going on.

Andrew set the dishes on the coffee table, seemingly unconcerned. He turned back to the kitchen with no explanation except, “Eat.”

Neil stared at the food suspiciously. 

Barely a moment passed before a scoff came from his right, “It’s not poisoned. Here.”

A cup of water was pressed into his hands and Neil stood frozen while Andrew sat on the couch and grabbed the remote. Neil was quite used to listening closely to his environment and analyzing his surroundings, but this was the _second_ time Andrew had snuck up on him now. 

Neil didn’t move for another minute, watching as Andrew flipped through channels and rested his socked feet on the table in front of him. When it was clear Andrew was not moving, he cautiously sat next to him on the couch and picked up the bowl of soup. He stirred it, looking over its contents.

“Microwaved to his majesty’s liking?”

Neil bristled at the mocking tone and shoved a spoonful in his mouth out of spite. It was burning hot and tasted slightly of aluminum, but at that moment, it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

After draining the cup and practically licking the dishes clean, Neil brought his knees up to his chest and glanced at Andrew. He hadn’t moved an inch.

“Satisfied?”

“I imagine you are,” Came Andrew’s smug reply.

Neil grit his teeth, “Look, this was great and all, but I’m gonna need to eat tomorrow too. Are you going to bite me or not?”

“Not,” Andrew finally slid his eyes over to Neil, “You’re practically on the verge of death, your fever is so high I can taste it, and you look like you could plausibly pass out any second. I’m looking for a long term investment, not a one time payment.”

“You- How-?”

“Even if it wasn’t obvious from the bags under your eyes and your whole body shaking,” Andrew paused to tap the side of his nose, “I’m a vampire, Einstein.”

Neil huffed in annoyance, “Whatever. I’m not as fragile as you seem to think I am.”

“I’m still not using you today. Sick people taste like shit. Neither of us would get anything out of that exchange.”

“ _I_ would.”

“A quick death, maybe.”

Neil stood up, trying desperately to ignore the way the room spun at the abrupt movement, “Look, if you’re not going to pay me, I’ll just be on my way-”

“Stop being fucking stubborn. I’m letting you stay here.”

“You’re-...” Neil wobbled on his feet, struggling to keep up with the conversation, “Huh?”

\--

Neil thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep the first night, alone in the convenient spare bedroom, tucked under unfamiliar sheets and a heavy comforter, all too aware of the person sleeping across the hall. His body had other plans though, warm and full for the first time in weeks (months?), exhausted, and used to falling asleep in strange environments. He was out like a light. 

Three days passed, each one looking identical to the first. Neil ate breakfast in the kitchen, watched Andrew take his morning coffee out to the balcony, then Neil would sleep until Andrew got back from whatever he did during the day. Andrew would cook dinner, Neil would brave the world outside the bedroom again to eat, then he’d sleep some more. 

On the fourth day, Neil woke up sweaty and feeling strangely refreshed. When he sat up, the room didn’t spin, and he felt steady on his feet for the first time in weeks. He took a quick shower, changed into dark sweats that were a bit above his ankle and a baggy hoodie that completely engulfed his frame. The clothes in his duffel bag were all either soaked in sweat or covered in dirt, so he had no choice but to take Andrew up on his offer of clothes.

He dried his hair as best he could and poured himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen. He opened the door to the balcony and didn’t even shiver at the rush of cool air that blew in. He smiled lightly as he stepped out, sliding the door shut and joining Andrew leaning against the railing.

He sipped at his caffeine peacefully for a while before Andrew spoke up, “You’re gonna get sick again, coming out here with wet hair.”

Neil didn’t let his smile waver as he flipped him off, looking out at the cars driving past and the light snow dusting the world. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed. He felt warm, full, _safe_. And that was saying something, considering the fact that he was currently living with a man he didn’t know a thing about.

Suddenly, the smell of smoke filled his nostrils and he breathed in deeply before he could stop himself. He glanced over to find Andrew narrowing his eyes dubiously, holding a cigarette to his lips. Andrew took another drag and blew a mouthful at him again. Neil’s shoulders relaxed further as the scent surrounded him. 

Andrew huffed and turned away, muttering, “Junkie.”

Neil shrugged. Then thought for a minute, and said cautiously, “My mom used to smoke.”

“And where is she?”

“Dead. Yours?”

“I don’t have one.”

Neil nodded as he leaned further over the railing, watching as someone took their dog out to piss on the frosted grass. 

“Your father?”

Neil’s smile was sharp as a blade, “I don’t have one.”

That was how their truth game began.

\--

Friday Neil ran out of contacts. 

Friday Neil brought up the bite again.

Andrew denied him the same as he had the past few days, but Neil was done, “At this point you’re just making excuses to keep me in your apartment! I’m not sick anymore. There’s no point to me staying here if I’m not working.”

Andrew regarded him and his outburst boredly. Neil counted to 60 in both French and German before he got a response.

“Lose the contacts and meet me on the couch.”

Neil abruptly stilled, “How did you-?

“It’s not difficult if you know what to look for.”

Five minutes later, Neil was bemoaning the waste of his last pair of brown contacts and avoiding looking in the mirror. He met Andrew in the living room as instructed, and settled on the couch, back against the armrest. Staring back at Andrew sitting across from him, iced over blue eyes on full display, he was suddenly nervous. He felt exposed. Vulnerable. He had no idea what would happen next or what to expect. He didn’t know what he had signed up for and it was all crashing into him at once.

Andrew’s head tilted as Neil’s heart rate sped up, “I’m going to grab your wrist, yes or no?”

Neil swallowed thickly, “Yes.”

Andrew handled Neil’s wrist gently as he rolled the sleeve up to the elbow, “Try to calm down. It’ll be worse if you’re amped up.”

Andrew’s words were punctuated by fangs sliding out of gums and all of the sudden Neil’s pulse was in his ears. He stared with wide eyes at the needle like points and found it hard to swallow around his heart in his throat, “You’re-...It’s-...You’re actually-...?”

Andrew’s thumb rested on the pulse point over Neil’s wrist, no doubt feeling the goosebumps that raised over his entire arm, “A vampire? That is what you signed up for, is it not?”

“I mean-”

Andrew snorted, “You’re not slick. I knew from your reactions at Eden’s that you didn’t have a fucking clue.”

“Then why-?”

“Because you’re interesting,” Andrew lifted his eyes from the raised bumps and ridges of scars that lined Neil’s forearm. As he met Neil’s eyes, he felt his heart halt its palpitations and stop beating altogether, “But you can change your mind.”

Neil licked his lips and Andrew’s gaze tracked the movement with the efficiency of a predator. Neil glanced at the fangs again, then down to his bare forearm, then to the fuzzy carpet that laid under the coffee table.

“Neil,” Andrew’s voice was firm, demanding complete attention. Neil met his eyes once again, encapsulated, “You can say no.”

Neil shook his head lightly. Took a deep breath.

“I want to,” And he was surprised that he wasn’t lying.

\--

It was a disaster.

Neither of them did anything wrong. In fact, the bite itself wasn’t bad at all.

Andrew leaned over and brought Neil’s pale wrist to his lips, sunk his fangs in without any preamble, and Neil had barely flinched at the sensation. Fangs slid back out of the wound as Andrew fit his mouth around the punctures, tongue warm and steady over skin. 

Andrew’s thumb tapped a steady rhythm against Neil’s pulse point and Neil closed his eyes as he tried to relax and get used to the odd feeling of blood being pulled from his veins. After about a minute though, Neil got a little more help than he’d asked for in calming down.

A burning feeling spread through his body and left him uncomfortably warm. He blinked rapidly as his eyelids threatened to droop, his limbs feeling heavy. It felt like his body was floating, unable to feel any sensation except for Andrew’s tongue against his wrist. 

His brain whirred sluggishly, as if cogs were trying to rotate through jello. He tried to twitch his fingers, just slightly. Nothing. Tried harder. He didn’t feel anything. Clenched his fists as tight as he could. He glanced at his unoccupied hand and found it hanging limply from his lap. 

He couldn’t move.

He struggled in vain to lift up his leg, to snatch his arm out of Andrew’s grip, to stand up, _anything_. His body remained uncooperative and he felt the panic set in. Anything could happen now.

The fact that he was entirely subject to Andrew’s will without any choice in the matter filled his lungs with thick liquid until he couldn’t breathe. He felt cold fear wrap around his throat and choke him in a vice grip. His breath came out in shorter and shorter gasps as his airway constricted.

Andrew stilled, then pulled away from his wrist, “Neil?”

Neil’s tongue felt swollen and heavy in his mouth, his jaw glued together with tension. 

Andrew hurriedly licked over the open wounds, cleaning up the excess blood pooling over the sides, then set Neil’s wrist back down on his lap, “Neil.”

Neil met his eyes, his chest rising and falling far too fast, hoping to convey his panic and paralysis with his gaze. Andrew’s eyes flickered open wider, trailing over Neil’s limp body hurriedly to try and find the cause of his discomfort. 

Neil watched the realization dawn over Andrew’s eyes, his jaw tightening as he realized that this was because of him, “You can’t move.”

It wasn’t a question. Neil swallowed painfully and a small sound escaped from his throat, pitiful and choked. 

Andrew took a deep breath, seemingly collecting himself, then he knelt in front of Neil. He hesitated briefly before pulling Neil’s legs so he was sitting properly on the couch, “Okay. Listen to me, Neil. Very carefully.”

He gently reached up and fit his rough hand around the back of Neil’s neck, calluses caressing the wispy hairs there, “This will wear off. Do you understand me? It’s not permanent. At most, it’ll take an hour before you’re fully able to move again.”

He pulled Neil slowly towards him, guiding Neil’s head between his knees and keeping his firm, grounding hand resting on his neck, “What I need you to do is breathe. I know you don’t know me, I know you don’t trust me, I know this was my fault. But I will not hurt you.”

Neil trembled under his grip, his eyes fixed desperately on the white rug, trying to count the fibers there. Anything to try and keep his mind present. 

“Neil. You are safe here. I need you to breathe with me.”

Andrew’s chest brushed against Neil’s curls, pressed against his scalp on every inhale, and Neil found himself desperate to match the rhythm. 

It took ten minutes for Neil to get his breath back, and another twenty to get feeling back in his body. He was slowly but surely able to move his fingers, rotate his ankles, and finally sit up by himself. He wrapped his arms around himself and held on tightly, shaking and disoriented. 

“You conveniently forgot to mention the paralyzing effects of the bite,” Neil bit out when he felt he could speak again, voice hoarse and throat aching.

Andrew rose from his spot on the ground, knees cracking from the position they were stuck in. He sat carefully next to Neil on the couch, giving him plenty of space, “I didn’t know.”

Neil scoffed.

“I didn’t,” Andrew’s gaze bored into him, eyes willing to drill the truth into him if they had to, “I knew the bite had certain side-effects, but I’d never fed from a human before. I didn’t know they’d be this strong.”

“...Human? But didn’t you feed from Roland?”

“Werewolf.”

“Wha-...And the others?”

“Very few. Some nymphs and a warlock once, but I’ve mostly survived off of blood bags.”

Neil was still feeling considerably shaky, but his limbs were getting restless to move. He had stayed still for too long. However, a question was still weighing on his mind, “What...What does the bite usually do?”

“The effects are usually more pleasurable than terrifying,” Andrew’s eyes hadn’t left his face, and Neil felt there might be an apology hidden in there. Or he could be imagining things to make himself feel better.

Neil couldn’t do this. If every bite was going to be like this...He wouldn’t be able to take it. He could find work elsewhere. Sure, he might have to starve out in the cold for a little while longer, but at least he wasn’t sick anymore.

As if reading his thoughts, Andrew spoke up again, “Blood bag jobs are popular with humans for a reason. The toxin secreted from a vampire’s fangs is meant to keep prey still to make it easier for a vampire to feed.”

 _Prey_. Neil had spent far too much of his life being treated like prey already.

“However,” Andrew continued, “It’s only meant to be used once. Drain your victim, move on. What they eventually found out was that if a single human is fed on for an extended period of time, the body slowly becomes immune to the venom.”

“You mean…?”

Andrew nodded minutely, “The effects of the toxin wane until only the relaxation and, for some people, the high are left. The vampire gets fed, and the human gets an escape.”

It was a free high. Neil supposed it made sense, but… “Wait, you said you didn’t know that the bite would paralyze me!”

“I didn’t,” Andrew tilted his head to the side, “I’m only half. In previous feedings, my partner would feel pleasure, but remain completely functional. 

“I should have guessed that it would be stronger on a human though,” Andrew stood up, brushing off his clothes, and Neil guessed that was as close of an apology as he was going to get, “I’ll get you something to eat.”

Neil stared at Andrew’s back as he walked into the kitchen, then sprang up as soon as it disappeared into the doorway. He took a moment to steady himself as his vision blurred and knees threatened to give out. The world came back into focus. He went to the guest room.

He shoved his newly washed clothes back in his duffel bag and double checked that the rest of his stuff was still packed in exactly how he left it. He had just been bitten, had gotten blood sucked out of him, and been paralyzed. He had a lot to think about, but he didn’t have to do that _here._

He left the room and had just finished slipping on his shoes by the front door, when-

“You aren’t running.”

Neil whipped around, feet already backing him towards the door, “Are you gonna stop me? What, with your freaky vampire strength? Or are you gonna paralyze me again?”

Andrew’s jaw clenched, “Neil. You’ve just lost blood, the effects of the bite aren’t fully worn off yet, and you haven’t eaten yet today. You’re not running.”

“Watch me,” Neil’s back hit the door and he reached a hand back to grasp the knob.

“ _Neil_.”

“Andrew. _No_.”

Neil knew the panic in his eyes must be visible by now. Knew that it was apparent the amount of restraint it was already taking him to still be standing here. Knew that the shaking in his limbs was less about toxins now and more about needing to leave.

Neil saw a vein in Andrew’s jaw tick. Saw his hands clench just once, before releasing. Saw him reach into his pocket, Neil bracing himself for the worst, and pull out five twenty dollar bills.

Neil blinked dumbly as Andrew stepped forward carefully, and held the money out to him. Neil took it from him gingerly, still slightly confused on how they got from point A to point B.

“Your payment,” Andrew nodded towards Neil’s hands, “Make sure you eat something.”

\--

Neil lay on a stiff, crusty mattress, nostrils filled with the scent of mold and eyes fixed on the flickering light above him. His first night in the shitty motel was spent sleeping well into the day, too tired to think, and that day was spent buying groceries to last him the next. After eating two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, an apple, a granola bar, and drinking an entire bottle of water, he was sated. Well, sated in the over-full way he thought was the regular way to feel full, too used to taking complete advantage whenever there was enough food available. 

He laid above the blankets with the heat turned up high, wary of the things that would live under the sheets in a building like this. He had paid for two nights in the motel and bought the food partly out of the necessity and partly to subconsciously prove to himself that he could provide for himself. He was living out of the cold with sustenance in his stomach on money he earned for himself.

He was only fooling himself though. He couldn’t be laying here, night after night, surviving just barely off of the money he got each week. He’d never get anywhere like this. What he needed was to get to Illinois.

A bus ticket that distance would cost him around $200 dollars, which would take over ten weeks at the rate he was earning and spending. And that was assuming he even went back to Andrew.

The effects of the toxin wear off...How long would that take?

Where would he get a better offer though? Full bed and board, plus $100 a week. With a man who hadn’t shown any inclination to hurt him yet, aside from the bite. 

Neil’s head was throbbing and he rubbed at his temples irritably. He was sure he wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe the toxins were still messing with him. Or the blood loss. That must be it. 

He rolled up his sleeve and gazed at his wrist. The bite was almost completely gone now. It had scabbed the day it was bitten, said scab fell off the next day, and it was only fading now. Neil guessed that had something to do with a vague memory of Andrew licking the wound after feeding.

It was only two weeks. Then Illinois. He could survive that.

He’d survived worse. 

\--

Neil woke up when the front door unlocked, keys jingling against each other as heavy boots stomped snow from their soles. He sat up groggily on the smooth couch, rubbing a hand through his curls.

If Andrew was surprised to find Neil in his living room when he got home from work the next night, he didn’t show it. In fact, he didn’t react much at all aside from commenting, “The door was locked.”

Neil just nodded, “It was.”

And that was that.

Days passed in a comfortable quiet. Andrew didn’t ask where Neil had gone. He didn’t ask why he left. He didn’t ask why he came back. It was just...Accepted. Understood. Neil wasn’t sure how to feel about that. How easy it was. 

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“Oh, so you’re not-”

“You expected me to be older?” Andrew took another drag from his cigarette, lips quirking up for a split second.

Neil scratched the back of his neck, turning around to lean his back against the icy railing of the balcony, “Sorta. Is it because you’re half?”

Andrew nodded, “We age the same as humans. How old are you?”

Neil hesitated. There was an unspoken rule to this game. You can choose not to answer, but you can’t lie, “...Are you taking your turn?” _Or just making small talk?_

Andrew glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, assessing. Then, consideringly, he nodded.

Neil swallowed hard. It’s not what his driver’s license says, but, “Eighteen.”

Before he could see Andrew’s reaction, he leaned over and plucked the cigarette from between his fingers, taking a slow drag of it himself. He breathed out deeply, “You said ‘we’. Is your brother a vampire as well?”

Andrew simply dug the pack out of his back pocket and pulled out another one, “That is how twins work.”

Neil watched as snowflakes fluttered around them, watched a few particularly adventurous ones settle on Andrew’s golden eyelashes, some dusting his nose.

Andrew lit the cigarette between his lips, “Staring.”

Neil blinked once and looked away quickly.

\--

Friday came again and Neil didn’t sleep the night before. His thoughts twirled in his head like a full fucking ballet and the racket persisted until his head throbbed and his body tossed and turned under the covers. He chugged his cup of coffee the next morning, only shaking his head when Andrew’s eyes questioned.

The day seemed to pass at a snail’s pace, leaving behind a sticky trail of anxiety and restlessness. As it neared dinner time, his leg wouldn’t stop bouncing and his fingertips tingled with the urge to _do_ something. He settled on the couch in the spot he occupied last time, hoping it was a clear enough signal that he was ready and they could _get it over with already._

Andrew found him there a couple of minutes later. He sat next to him and just looked at him. Neil fidgeted underneath his gaze, waiting. But Andrew didn’t move. Neil was ready to just get on with it.

“Staring,” He mocked.

Andrew’s eyes didn’t even waver. Just cataloged his appearance, from the dark hair curling around his ears, to his blue eyes avoiding meeting Andrew’s, to the criss-crossing lines etched into his hands. 

Finally, he spoke, “Where’d you get those scars?”

Neil’s eyes flicked up to his in surprise, before swiftly darting away again. He let out a bitter laugh, “Which ones?”

Andrew’s stare remained impassive, “I didn’t ask for your self-pity. I asked for an answer.”

Neil found himself again meeting Andrew’s eyes as his core turned molten, “Fuck you. What the hell do you know?”

“Nothing. That’s why I asked.”

His bored gaze and unrelenting posture rubbed Neil the wrong way and he bristled at the feeling, “Yeah, well, I pass. That’s none of your fucking business.”

Andrew only shrugged. 

Neil lost patience, “That’s it? You want the answer so bad, but you back off as soon as I say no? What’s with you?”

“I don’t want anything.”

Neil scoffed in disbelief, running a hand through his hair, “That’s fucking bullshit. You want my blood. You want answers to your questions. You wanted me to stay here.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

And there it was. It was as if Andrew was able to see through him. As if the walls Neil so carefully constructed were made of glass and completely transparent. He cut through Neil’s abrasive attitude and his anxious fidgeting and proposed an easy solution. _You don’t have to do this._ Yeah fucking right. 

Neil visibly tried to calm himself down, “No. It’s fine.”

Andrew still didn’t move.

Neil took a deep breath and rolled up his sleeve, holding his wrist out for Andrew to take. 

Andrew’s eyes bored into him, “Yes or no, Neil.”

Neil pushed his wrist further towards Andrew, eyes catching on the glimpse of fang he caught when Andrew spoke, “Yes.”

The bite wasn’t as jarring as the first time had been, but he still felt his wrist twitch at the first sign of fangs sinking into flesh. Neil breathed out slowly and started counting to ten in every language he could to keep himself from panicking. He made it through three languages before his body started sinking into the cushions.

His eyes slipped closed and his limbs felt jelly-like. He hummed subconsciously, his exhausted body welcoming the relaxation. Until his mind caught up with him. 

His eyes blinked open and he stared down at Andrew’s blond head bent over Neil’s wrist. Watched his throat bob as he swallowed another mouthful. His gaze traveled over the pale nose lightly brushing his skin and licked his lips thoughtfully. 

He was getting distracted. 

He blinked again to try and focus, tilting his head to stare down at his free hand. He cautiously wiggled his fingers. They moved. His eyes widened. He lifted his arm from his lap. It lifted.

It was difficult. His limbs felt heavy and stiff, but he could control it. He didn’t feel helpless, like he was strapped down underwater. He felt safe, like a cocoon of warmth surrounded him and bade him to rest. 

He didn’t have long to celebrate his victory before his eyes drooped closed again. This time, he let the sensation of Andrew’s tongue on his skin lull him instead of frighten him. 

\--

Neil had a problem.

He couldn’t stop looking at Andrew.

In the kitchen, he’d watch Andrew’s bare biceps shift as he reached for something on a shelf, or stirred something in a pan. On the balcony, he’d find his eyes drawn to Andrew’s fingers, knobby knuckles framed by smoke as he held his cigarette, wide palm brushing the snow gathered on the railing. When he spoke, his gaze stuck to his mouth, eyes tracing flat teeth as if waiting for fangs to drop, catching the movement of his tongue when he mentioned words with a ‘th’ sound, transfixed by the way his lips shaped out sentences and the way the bottom one jutted out with his jaw when he was thinking. 

He had no clue what was going on with him. He’d never had this problem before. He was good at cataloging people, sorting out who was a threat and who he was supposed to know. Adept at reading facial cues and tics, able to stay out of the way of an angry person or persuade someone who was on the edge of agreeing. But he wasn’t doing any of these things when he looked at Andrew. He was just _looking_.

He didn’t understand it, and their truth game wasn’t helping. He was giving more of himself to Andrew than he’d ever given to anyone. And the worst part was he didn’t feel like he was while it was happening. It just felt natural. _Right._

“Were you born here?” Neil was sitting on the railing of the balcony after dusting the snow off the best he could. His legs dangled over the wooden floorboards as his hands supported him on the icy ledge.

“No,” Andrew was wearing the hoodie Neil had worn his fourth day here. It made Neil’s chest do a weird thing when he realized they had worn the same thing. 

“Where then?”

“California. You?”

Neil looked down at his feet, scuffed sneakers swinging, making a steady _thump, thump, thump_ as his heels hit the bars of the railing, “Maryland.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

“Yeah, well,” Neil huffed, smiling a little, “I’ve been farther.”

Neil looked up from the ice coating the wood beneath him, eyes refocusing on Andrew. The way the wind ruffled his hair, his clipped short fingernails scratching lightly at the handle of his coffee cup, tongue darting out to wet his lips, his eyes flicking up to meet his-

Oh, shit. 

Neil couldn’t look away.

Andrew left his mug on the flat railing, striding the few paces it took to place himself in front of Neil. Neil watched him approach, fingers curling around wood in anticipation. Of what, he wasn’t certain.

Andrew stepped between Neil’s legs, hands bracing themselves next to each of Neil's. Andrew leaned forward, looking up more than usual to maintain eye contact with him, “And where would that be?”

Neil’s lips parted, bangs blowing into his face as he stared. Andrew was really close to him. He cleared his throat, “Take your pick.”

Andrew took another step closer, eyes flicking to Neil’s mouth and up again. Neil suddenly understood, “Yes or no?”

Neil swallowed, his heart going a mile a minute, “Yes.”

“Hands to yourself.”

Neil gripped the railing tighter, nodding quickly.

It was electric. Their lips met and Neil’s body was warmed from the inside out, toes curling inside his shoes. Their mouths melted against each other and chased and met and separated again, an elaborate game that Neil didn’t yet understand the rules to. He only knew he wanted to win it. 

The first sign of tongue and Neil gasped quietly, fingers tightening on the freezing wood, probably lodging several splinters in his palms. He leaned forward as far as he could, almost toppling off the railing in his eagerness. Andrew’s wide hands encased his hips, keeping him upright before he fell into him. He pulled away and Neil’s eyes fluttered open, mouth red and tingling.

“Okay?” Andrew’s hands retreated as soon as he was sure Neil was stable.

Neil nodded, mind still racing and blank at the same time. He swallowed, licking his lips as if to taste Andrew again. He came to a startling realization, “You like me.”

Andrew’s gaze was unimpressed, which was quite a picture with his flushed cheeks and swollen lips, “I hate you.”

Neil grinned. Problem solved.

\--

Friday arrived again, and this time, Neil wasn’t the least bit nervous. He plopped beside Andrew on the dark couch, sitting cross-legged, hair mussed from his shower, “What are we watching?”

Andrew gestured to the TV as if it was self-explanatory. Neil watched Andrew’s eyes track the screen for a little while, lights from the show reflecting off his grey, _hazel_ eyes.

He leaned back into the cushions and turned his gaze to the TV, watching as a dark haired woman and a bearded man discussed something with a different woman in scrubs. A cadaver laid between them, ligature marks on her wrist and several knife wounds sliced through her pale face. Neil winced a little, his own face aching with the phantom pain of a blade. _That could have been me._

He knew it was stupid. It was a fictional show about crime. The woman laying there was a very much alive actor with layers of skilled makeup applied to her face. Neil was overreacting about something so _small_ , and it was frustrating. He-

The TV turned dark abruptly.

Neil blinked in surprise and turned to Andrew in question.

“I know who the unsub is already. It was getting boring,” Andrew tossed the remote to the side, turning to face Neil on the couch.

Neil blinked again, then shrugged. He was glad it was off anyways. It was dinner time, “Are you hungry?”

“Is this your way of asking me to make dinner?”

Neil smirked, “Dinner’s already here.”

Andrew’s rough hands were firm on Neil’s hips as he climbed onto Andrew’s lap. Neil hovered above his legs, hands braced on the couch behind Andrew’s head, “Okay?”

“Yes,” Andrew’s thumbs rubbed circles under Neil’s shirt, “You can touch above my shoulders.”

Neil nodded, finally lowering fully onto Andrew’s lap and waited for him to meet him in the middle. They clashed, bruising pressure causing Neil to tilt his head farther, wanting more. Neil’s hands framed Andrew’s jaw, running his fingers over the sharp edges there, wandering down to trace his neck. Neil let out a small sound as the kiss deepened, warmth enveloping him once again, all the way down to his toes. 

He felt a small prick against his tongue, and wondered at the feel of sharp fangs added to the equation. He traced the edges of them, nicking his tongue again, and a want appeared so suddenly in his core that he broke away from the kiss. 

“Andrew,” Neil panted, licking his lips and tasting iron, “Can you bite my neck?”

Andrew stilled.

Neil immediately backtracked, “It’s okay. I don’t know what came over me, I just thought-”

“Neil,” Andrew’s voice was tight.

Neil met his eyes guiltily, only to be met with dilated pupils. His own eyes widened at the sight.

“Are you sure?” Andrew’s hands were tighter on his hips than before, like he was restraining himself.

Neil nodded, still transfixed by Andrew’s eyes, the same way Andrew was transfixed on his neck, “Yes.”

Andrew’s hands traveled upwards, callouses scraping lightly against his shoulders. Fingers dipped into the collar of Neil’s loose t-shirt, pulling it to the side and over his shoulder. A thumb caressed the skin there, rubbing wondering patterns. A second hand wandered up to his jaw, tilting his head to the side just so, giving Andrew full, unrestricted access to such a vulnerable part of him. Neil swallowed, his heart speeding up in anticipation, and Andrew’s eyes tracked the movement of his Adam’s apple. 

Neil closed his eyes as he felt the ghost of breath hover over his neck, heat tingling at the exposed skin. The warmth closed in, engulfing him completely as it spread. Andrew’s tongue moved lithely against him, as if savoring the taste, drawing out the moment. And a moment it was. When fangs finally pierced the surface, Neil was struck with a full body shiver, the bite a hundred times more sensitive. He grasped at Andrew’s shoulders as if to keep himself from floating away, blood rushing through his body as it hurried to fill a waiting mouth. 

Neil must’ve made some sort of sound, because Andrew hummed approvingly against his neck, the vibrations causing goosebumps to spread across his skin. Neil found himself tilting his head farther to the right, encouraging more of the breathtaking sensation that was enveloping him.

Minutes passed, but Neil still felt like whining when Andrew eventually pulled away. A horrible cold replaced Andrew’s tongue, leaving him aching and shivering. His legs were shaky and his fingertips tingled as he finally tilted his head upright ahead, his neck throbbing in time with his heart. With a start, he realized it wasn’t the only thing throbbing.

His eyes widened and he scrambled off Andrew’s lap, face flushing darkly despite the blood loss. He brought his hands down to attempt to hide what must have already been glaringly obvious to the person whose lap he was just sitting on, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-... I don’t know what-...I didn’t mean-”

Andrew licked his lips, tongue tracing along fangs delicately, not missing a drop, “I told you. Pleasurable side effects.”

“Oh,” Neil pulled his shirt down farther to hide his embarrassment, “Right. I’m just gonna…”

Andrew waved him off, picking up the remote again, “Go shower.”

“Right,” Neil stood and hurried off.

\--

Neil had done it. Two weeks had passed and he had $200 in his pocket. It was time to head to Illinois and pick up the stash there. Only, he wasn’t as eager to leave as he had expected to be. It might have something to do with the free food and heating, or maybe a little something more with the way Andrew’s name spilled off his lips that Friday night in the shower.

Whatever the case, Neil had been putting it off all week. He _needed_ to go pick that up, it wasn’t optional, but he told himself that as long as he left before the next feeding, he’d be fine. So here he was on Wednesday, at 5 in the morning, packing his duffel with practiced ease and making enough coffee so that Andrew could have some when he woke up.

His bus left at 6, and the trip was about 12 hours. He would have just enough money left over to buy himself meals for the day, which meant he needed to get to work as soon as he arrived. He was in for a long ride.

He felt a little bad about leaving before Andrew woke up, but he wasn’t going to be gone that long. It wasn’t like he lived here permanently, so there was no particularly need to let him know he was leaving. Still, he rummaged through the kitchen drawers until he found a pen and sticky notes and scrawled out something quickly. Smiling, he stuck it to the coffee pot. _Help yourself :)_

That should cover it.

\--

When the bus dropped him off in Illinois, the sun was already setting. It was just past 5pm, accounting for the time difference, but wintertime daylight liked to fuck around like that. Neil sighed and shouldered his bag. He had only pocket change left, but at least his stomach was full, even if his legs were cramped to hell and back.

He had already memorized the coordinates his binder provided him with, and he grabbed a map from the bus stop. He headed in what he hoped was the right direction and tried not to curse the biting wind that whipped at his too thin outfit.

He located the building after half an hour of walking upwind. It was old and crumbling, the remains of what looked like a post office. The worn red brick was coming apart in places and bright green vines filled in the cracks. He walked the perimeter, looking for anything that stuck out, and canvassing what people were around. Satisfied, he entered the alleyway the building made up half of and crouched low to the ground. 

He mentally cursed his stiff knees, getting down onto all fours to run his fingers along the bottom-most bricks. He trailed down the line, pushing and prodding, and finding only spider webs, dirt, and a stray piece of gum. Not disturbed, he moved his hand up to the second line of bricks, and began the long crawl down the alley again. 

Halfway through, his fingers found give where before they only felt resistance. He halted his movement and sat up on his knees. He pushed against the brick again and felt it slide a little farther into the wall. He dusted his hands off on his pants and dug his nails into the cracks, getting the best grip he could. His fingertips ached and the hard edges scraped against his skin, but he kept pulling and readjusting his grip and pulling again. 

The fruits of his labor were revealed when the brick finally gave way, dirt and mortar crumbling and raining down on his jeans. He pulled it the rest of the way out and set it to the side. The skin under his nails was bleeding, but he reached inside the opening and pulled out his prize. A small, rusted key.

Night had completely fallen by the time he made it to his next destination, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to find it any better in the daylight. There was absolutely _nothing_ out here. It was fields and long, rural roads, and the occasional squirrel. He had passed by a couple of houses on the way, but they weren’t close enough to what the code had described to warrant a search. 

He was exhausted, freezing, and his shoulder was aching terribly from the weight of his bag. He didn’t realize he’d gone so long without wearing it until now. He switched it to the other shoulder and carried on, trying to use the moonlight to search the edges of the road carefully. All he saw was corn and litter.

Ten more minutes of walking and beyond the tall fields sat a large house. It was white, with chipping paint and no car in the driveway. It was as good a try as any. 

He breached the yard, sneakers snagging on long weeds hidden beneath snow and tripping over stealthily hidden rocks. It looked like no one had lived in this place for a long time.

He made it another few feet before something big and metal hit his foot _hard_ , and he went sprawling. The side of his head whacked against the corner of something solid and he lay groaning in the snow as he struggled to regain his bearings. When the world had stopped spinning, he sat up, prodding at his head gingerly. He crawled carefully over to where his foot had struck the object and started the long process of brushing snow off it with a numb hand.

His endeavor revealed two large metal doors set in the ground, the edges of which stuck up at the perfect tripping distance. Connecting both the doors was a padlock. _A tornado shelter_. Neil rummaged in his pocket for the key, almost dropped it with his stiff fingers, and finally fit it into the hole. It turned.

“Thank fuck,” Neil breathed, so ready to be out of this weather. He removed the lock and set it to the side, tucking the key back in his pocket. It took some upper body strength to tug the doors apart, and he winced at the creak they made when they opened. The sound rang out in the empty landscape, seeming to echo back at him from everywhere at once. 

He climbed down the ladder into the even more penetrating darkness, almost slipping twice with his snow-slick shoes. He strained his eyes to try and make out the shapes in the room. He walked forward cautiously, hands out in front of him until they bumped against wood. He trailed his fingers along it until he made out that the wall was covered in a series of shelves. 

Finding the locked box was easy. It was simply hidden in plain sight among the other junk lining the shelves. Opening it was another thing entirely. Another padlock with no sign of a key. He tried his previous key. Nothing. He searched around the room blindly, fingers tracing corners and concrete and coming back only with dead bugs and mice droppings. 

Time for plan B. Neil explored the shelves by touch once again until his fingers bumped something dull and hard. He picked it up and felt along his edges until he could confirm it was a screwdriver. He brought the box and the screwdriver back towards the ladder, and sat down under the moonlight. He set the box on the cold floor and wedged his pointer finger and thumb in the metal between the box and the body of the lock. He pulled his fingers apart firmly, and rested the butt of the screwdriver on the upper corner of the padlock. 

After what felt like hours of tapping the end of the screwdriver into the lock with precise force, the metal bumped open. Neil breathed out in relief, his breath fogging up in front of him and dancing away. He set the padlock aside and reached into the box. His trembling hand closed around a thick wad of cash, bound together with rubber bands and he stuffed it in his jeans pocket gratefully.

Along with the money, his fingers brushed metal and plastic. Old IDs from years ago were huddled inside a plastic baggie, and nestled next to them was a gun.

Neil swallowed hard and brought the gun out, checking quickly to see if it was loaded. It was. His hand tightened around it. He flicked off the safety. Bit his lip. Then turned it back on. 

Methodically, he placed the gun back in the box, along with the tornado shelter key, and fit the lock back around it. He replaced it on the shelf and returned the screwdriver to where he got it from. Wiping his tired hands on his hoodie, he started the cold trek back to the ladder. Climbing out was harder than he expected and his fingers could barely fit the lock back into place after himself.

He considered the long road behind him to get back into town. Then he considered the abandoned house in front of him, safe from the wind and 20 feet away.

The house won.

\--

Neil's stomach was full, he was wearing fresh clothes, had an _actual_ coat, gloves, and plastic bags full of new clothes and necessities. His money was distributed between his binder, his boots, his inner _and_ outer pockets of his coat, and his jeans.

Now that he was back in town and finished with his shopping, he decided to get himself a motel for the rest of the day. Maybe even a motel that cost more than $25 a night. He thought he deserved some heat and warm blankets.

He was four blocks away from the motel he had chosen when he realized he was being followed. He had yet to look behind him, but heavy footsteps of an uneven gait had been persistent behind him for too long now. Neil kept his head up, his pace casual, and started looking around for escape routes. He veered off the path to his motel, heading to the left, towards a big building that could be a library or a bookstore.

The person behind him sped up, and Neil matched their pace. He zigzagged through alleyways, entered two different stores to try and throw them off his back, but every time he exited, the footsteps picked back up. Neil was panicking. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew it wouldn’t do him any good. But it’d been quiet for _so long_. Why now? Why _here_?

He started running in earnest, sprinting across streets and weaving through people. He wasn’t paying any attention to where he was headed. That was his mistake. 

That became very clear to him when he ran into a knife.

He gasped, immediately jerking away from the overwhelming pain consuming his abdomen. The knife did not move with him, sliding out of his new wound with the same agony as it went in with. His hands pressed frantically to his stomach, eyes flicking up to see a second attacker standing at the end of the alley he’d entered. He’d allowed himself to be herded exactly where they wanted him. 

He forced his feet to move him out of the way as the person clad in black in front of him tried for another stab. His back slammed into the wall as he scrambled backwards, and his head slammed against the brick with his pursuer caught up with them and grabbed a hold of Neil’s coat. His eye stung with the force of the man’s fist and the familiar feel of cold metal pressed against his throat. 

Neil didn’t waste any time. The man’s uneven gait indicated that he favored his left leg, so Neil kicked his right foot out, steel-toed boot connecting harshly with the man’s knee. It gave out easily, the man crumpling to the ground, the knife falling with him. Neil picked it up swiftly, crouched behind the man, and pressed the knife to _his_ throat. Roles reversed.

The second attacker had abandoned the knife in favor of a gun, steel barrel staring Neil down. Neil pressed the knife down harder, the man groaning as a thin line of blood was drawn, “Touch that trigger, and he dies.”

The attacker’s head tilted. Then they shot. 

Neil had expected this. His father’s men were expendable. They weren’t here to save the life of a pawn, they were here to acquire Neil. Neil had put the man between himself and the gun for a reason. 

The man slumped against him as the sound of a gun echoed against the bricks around them. Neil dropped him immediately, rushing the second attacker without a second thought, not giving them time to react. His mind whirred as he considered several ways to get the gun from their hand, but had to disregard every one that involved his hands. He didn’t have time to get that close before they shot again.

The gun clattered against the wall and metal clanged on the ground from the force of Neil’s boot. The attacker yelped as several of their fingers were most likely broken. Neil _booked_ it.

The second attacker wasn’t quite the same runner as the first, and Neil lost them in half the time. He was breathing hard, perhaps too hard, by the time he finally collapsed in a completely different alleyway, curled by the side of a large dumpster. He allowed himself to whimper softly as he pulled his bag off his shoulder and gingerly peeled off his coat and shirt. He winced as it pulled on his wound, sticky blood spilling over. 

His hands shook as he unzipped his duffel, pulling out the supplies he needed. He breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth tightly, unscrewing the lid of the whiskey as quickly as he could. His ID didn’t allow him to purchase alcohol yet, but $50 to a man smoking outside a gas station did.

He gulped down a couple of mouthfuls without grimacing and then grit his teeth so hard he heard his jaw creak as he poured more whiskey onto his wound. He let a small noise escape, his whole body straining to not curl up in the fetal position and just lie there until the pain went away by itself. His mother’s voice hissed in his ear, _Be quiet!_ So he endured.

He sterilized the needle in the same way, and by then, the whiskey had steadied his hands enough to be able to thread it. The feeling of poking a sharp object through already abused skin over and over never got easier. He was halfway through his stitches, when-

“Oh, my God!”

Neil’s head whipped up, eyes wide. They took in a tall man with black hair, dark green t-shirt framing toned arms and a wide chest. Neil was on his feet in seconds, bag in hand, free hand pressed against his wound in desperation. 

“Wait, wait! I’m-...Oh, my God. Fuck. Are you okay?” The man’s eyes were as wide as his, hands up in a placating gesture.

Neil’s feet were already pointed in the direction of the alley entrance, but he took a moment to give the man a dubious look. Clearly stating, _Are you serious?_

“Sorry. That was a stupid question. What-... Uhm,” The man fidgeted with his huge hands, moving them from the back of his neck, to his hair, to his pockets, to an aborted gesture to reach out to Neil, “You’re hurt. I mean-...Obviously. I just-...Do you want to come in?”

Neil glanced suspiciously at the door the man was gesturing to, the door he must have stepped out of. He looked back at the man, sizing him up. He noticed two large trash bags beside him, looking as if they’d been dropped in a hurry. He looked down at his abdomen dripping blood. The blade didn’t seem to hit anything vital, but the walk to the motel would definitely suck. 

“In where?” Damn. His voice sounded hoarse.

“Oh! Right, uh. It’s a bookstore. My wife and I own it. We live right upstairs.”

Neil would have to lie low for a little while. He would imagine the remaining attacker would be searching abandoned buildings and motels all over the area. This might be a significantly less risky choice. Neil nodded slowly.

The man perked up considerably as Neil headed towards him, hunched over a bit from his grip on his stomach and on his bag. The man seemed to remember his wound again belatedly and reached out, “Oh, do you need he-”

“No,” Neil jerked away from the outstretched hand immediately, the sharp movement causing a wave of pain to pulse through him, making him nauseous. 

The man’s hands retreated immediately, “Alright, that’s fine. Sorry, man.”

“I’m Matt by the way,” The man spoke up again as they climbed the stairs to the couple’s living space. 

Neil inclined his head to show he had heard, feeling awfully exposed walking through the brightly lit bookstore without a shirt and with a half-closed wound. The store was closed, but it didn’t make him feel any better. He wanted to find a bathroom and lock himself in to finish the job as soon as possible. 

They made it into the warm apartment, soft sounds coming from a TV in the living room, “Honey? How long does it take to take out the trash?”

Neil guessed that was probably the wife Matt had mentioned.

Matt laughed a bit sheepishly, making his way further into the apartment, heading towards the voice, “Yeah, well, there were some unexpected circumstances.”

Neil followed after him, despite really wanting to just interrupt them and ask where their restroom was.

“Did you get distracted taking pictures of the raccoons in the dumpster again? I’m not telling you again that they are _not_ pets, and we can _not_ keep them.”

The back of Matt’s neck darkened in a flush, and his hand immediately came up to cover it, “Aw, Dan, but they’re so _fluffy_.”

They finally made it to the living room, and both Neil and Dan stilled at the sight of one another. Dan, shocked at the sight of a shirtless, bleeding stranger in her apartment, and Neil, shocked at patches of green scales, and yellow slitted eyes. 

“Unexpected circumstances?”

Matt winced a bit, “I found him bleeding out next to the dumpster. I couldn’t just leave him.”

“No, of course not,” Dan stood up, rubbing Matt’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Uh,” Neil’s eyes were still caught on the green shimmering on the sides of her neck, down her wrists, circling her ankles.

“Looks like he was in the middle of stitching himself up,” Dan walked closer to Neil, “Do you need a hospital?”

“Shit. I should’ve asked him that,” Matt covered his face with his hands briefly, seemingly bemoaning his lack of foresight.

“No, it’s okay,” Neil backed away from Dan and her cat-like eyes, “Just-...Do you guys have a bathroom?”

Dan pointed to her left, “Just down the hallway, first door on the right. Do you need any help with that?”

“I’m fine,” Neil immediately headed in that direction, brushing past her, dizzy with blood loss.

He returned twenty minutes later, wound properly stitched and bandaged, blood washed off hands and out of clothes. He hung the soaked clothes from the shower rod to dry and changed into fresh clothes from his bag. He took a few more sips of whiskey, this time wincing, now that he had more presence of mind to hate the burn.

“Hey! Feeling any better?” Matt greeted him from the couch.

Neil nodded. His head was slightly fuzzy from alcohol and his adrenaline was crashing enough to make his legs shake, but comparatively, he was doing better.

“I’m glad! Dan and I just ordered some take-out, it should be here soon. We got extra, figured you’d be hungry.”

That was...Surprisingly kind, “Thank you.”

Matt smiled. It looked genuine, “It’s no problem, man. You’re way cuter than any raccoon I could save out there.”

Neil didn’t quite know what to make of that comment, but he was saved from answering by a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it!” Dan’s voice called from the kitchen.

“Will they...Not be concerned by all…?” Neil gestured to his face, indicating Dan’s scales and eyes.

Matt looked confused for a brief moment before catching on, “Oh! No, no, she can look fully human if she wants. She just usually stays partially shifted while in the privacy of home.”

“Shift...Into what?”

“Hm? Oh, I thought you knew,” Matt tilted his head at him, considering, “Aren’t you like, a faerie or something?”

Neil furrowed his eyebrows at him.

Matt’s eyes narrowed in thought, “Half faerie?”

“I’m not supernatural.”

“You sure? You’ve got serious faerie vibes. I’d follow you into the woods any day,” Matt laughed good-naturedly. 

“Are you…?”

“Nah, I’m human too. Dan gets to be the cool, powerful one in the relationship. Damn, dragons.” The phrase seemed much less harsh when accompanied by his fond grin. 

“Hey, babe?” Dan’s voice called from the door, “Could you go turn the bathtub faucet off?”

Matt instantly froze.

Neil looked at him in confusion, especially considering he’d just come out of the bathroom and the bathtub had definitely not been running. Neil jumped when Matt grabbed his bicep, but stilled when Matt held up a finger to his lips, shushing him silently.

“No problem, hon!” Matt called back, before ushering Neil down the hallway. They passed the bathroom, instead continuing on to a door at the end of the hall. Matt held the door open for him and then followed in after him. Neil’s heart rate went up at the sight of Matt locking the door behind them.

“What’s going on?” Neil looked around the room for potential weapons, should he need to defend himself.

“I’m so sorry to suddenly grab you like that,” Matt looked guilty, but his eyes were as concerned as Neil’s, “What Dan said was a code we use when she needs me to hide. The supernatural world is filled with some dangerous things, we had to establish that code pretty early in our relationship.”

Matt moved farther in the room, getting down on his knees and reaching under the bed, “Dragons are very rare creatures. Everyone wants the glory of killing one, or fighting one, or capturing one. The code needed to be something inconspicuous, and yet not something we said every day.”

Mat retrieved a sizable baseball bat, “Dan hates baths.”

Before Neil could be concerned about being locked in a room with a large man wielding a large bat, a series of complicated knocks sounded on the bedroom door. Matt nearly sagged in relief, tossing the bat on the bed and going to unlock the door. Opening it revealed Dan, her eyes locking immediately on Neil.

“I assume you’re aware people are looking for you?” She asked, eyes assessing.

Neil’s inner alarms blared, bells hitting the inside of his head repeatedly, causing it to pound. He took a couple of steps back, eyeing their bedroom window.

“Hey. I lied to them,” Dan’s now brown eyes bored into his own, dark skin smoothed out to hide scales, “They said a seventeen year old boy with dark hair and your height, had run away from his parents. They were ‘just trying to get you back safe and sound’.

“Your knife wound, hiding behind a dumpster, a person clad in all black looking all over the neighborhood for you. I connected the dots. I told them most of the people living in this area were old couples and new families. Never seen a kid like they were describing.”

“You…” Neil blinked at her, stunned, “Why would you do that?”

Dan looked at him incredulously, “Because parents don’t stab their children and the timing was all too convenient. Who’s after you?”

Neil swallowed hard, “The supernatural world’s not the only one that’s dangerous.”

\--

Neil reentered the apartment the next afternoon, a plastic bag of supplies hanging off his wrist as he toed off his shoes. He pulled his hood down, no longer needing it to hide his hair and his very dark black eye. Matt continued to ramble about either dragon breeds or the Superbowl, Neil couldn’t tell with how fast he switched between topics. 

Matt had insisted on accompanying him to the drug store while Dan was at work, still concerned over his wound and the events of the night before. However, Matt had _also_ thought it a good idea to get himself a soda on the way over, and turns out that he can talk ten times more than normal with caffeine running through his veins. 

Neil didn’t think he’d had this much conversation in _years_. He didn’t necessarily mind the distraction from the pain in his abdomen, but he struggled to keep up with the conversation _and_ constantly keep a lookout around them while they walked. Nevertheless, he got what he went out for, and he headed for the bathroom with his purchases. 

Matt followed.

Neil glanced back at him, “I’ve got it.”

“Aw, let me help, dude! I used to help all my friends dye their hair back in high school.”

“I’ve done it myself plenty of times.”

“Yeah, but I can make sure you don’t miss any spots!”

Neil sighed. He handed the plastic bag to Matt and headed into the bathroom. Matt’s grin could’ve lit up a black hole. 

2 hours later, Neil’s wound was cleaned and re-bandaged and his hair was a new dirty blond. He fiddled with it in the mirror a bit, satisfied that the red roots were no longer starting to show. 

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m practically a master at this by now,” Matt ruffled his hair, smiling proudly, “I should look for a job at a salon.”

Neil’s lips quirked, ‘They’d hire you on the spot.”

“Wouldn’t they?” Matt puffed up his chest, grin widening.

“Thank you...For helping. It was a lot easier.” Neil was surprised by how much he meant it.

“Of course, bud,” Matt put a hand on Neil’s shoulder, “No bad guys can recognize you now.”

\--

“You sure you don’t want to stay just a couple more days? Just to be safe.” Dan leaned against the wall of the hallway, arms crossed.

Neil shook his head, pulling on his shoes by the door. He already felt a bit bad about missing Andrew’s feeding. He hoped he wouldn’t mind eating a day late. 

“Your wound isn’t healed though. What if it reopens on the bus?” Matt was halfway to pouting.

Neil smiled lightly, standing up, “I’ll be okay. Thank you guys for all that you’ve done for me. You helped me out a lot.”

“I know you don’t have a phone,” Dan walked over to pull him into a gentle hug, mindful not to touch his stomach, “But will you come visit? Someday?”

“I…” Neil found himself leaning into her warmth, “Can’t make any promises. But I’d like to.”

Matt hugged him next, sniffling a little, “It’s not goodbye forever. If fate led you here once, it’ll lead you here again, right?”

Neil smiled softly, rubbing his back, “Right.”

He caught his bus just in time, and found himself thinking of the couple the whole ride back. He’d never met anyone like them while on the run. His mom had never accepted help from strangers, had never let _him_ accept help from strangers. She said you couldn’t trust them. That everyone was just looking out for themselves. No one was going to help them just out of the goodness of their hearts, they all wanted _something_. It had always been just them.

Dan and Matt though...They _had_ helped him for nothing in exchange. He didn’t know what to do with that fact. It contradicted everything his mother had taught him. And he didn’t regret it. He was glad he met them, glad he stopped in that alley. Maybe...Maybe his mother didn’t know as much about the world as Neil thought she did. 

\--

Neil knocked on Andrew’s door nervously, the feeling and action strangely reminiscent of his first time at this apartment. It felt like forever ago.

No answer came for a couple of minutes, so Neil knocked again. He should still be home at this time, maybe getting ready to go to work. 

The door swung openly suddenly and Neil stepped back in surprise. He was faced with all five feet of blond fury, and Neil’s chest ached with how much he missed him, “Andrew-”

“What the fuck.”

Neil stopped short at his tone. Once he looked closer, he realized Andrew’s face wasn’t set in one of his usual expressions of annoyance. His eyes were _blazing_. Neil took a hesitant step forward, “What’s wrong-”

Neil jerked forward as the front of his jacket was grabbed and yanked, pulling him inside. He winced as the door slammed behind him and he, in turn, was slammed against it.

“What the _fuck_.” Andrew repeated. When he spoke this time, Neil realized his fangs were extended. It dawned on him.

“Andrew, I’m sorry I missed your feeding. I got a little caught up. You can bite me now though if you want, I’ll-”

His collar was pulled forward and he was slammed against the door again, this time knocking his head pretty good. Andrew got right up in his face, “Where _were_ you?”

Neil was starting to get irritated now, “Can you _stop_ knocking me around? I just had an errand to run. Yes, it took a little longer than expected, but I don’t get why you’re so angry.”

“You don’t?” Andrew sneered, “You have absolutely no clue what I could possibly be angry about.”

“No! I just walked in the door and you’re already assaulting me,” Neil didn’t understand what his _problem _was.__

“You, a runaway full of scars, disappears without notice, leaving everyone behind to play the guessing game. Is he dead, gone, or kidnapped? Spin the wheel! Ding ding ding, we have a winner,” Andrew’s hand moved to grip his chin in a bruising grip, tilting his head this way and that, “My bet is on kidnapped. After all, if he ran, why on earth would he come back?” 

“I left a note!”

“A note about _coffee_.”

Neil had thought it held plenty of information. “ _Help yourself :)_ ” It implied that Neil had been up and around before Andrew, he wasn’t in the house anymore, and he’d left of his own volition. He even added the smiley face to show that he wasn’t leaving for any rash, emotional reason. It informed him he’d be back.

Neil was beginning to think it hadn’t communicated the same things to Andrew, “I’m...I’m sorry. I guess I-”

“Oh, Neil. I don’t want to hear your half-assed apology and the excuses I’m sure you have queued up,” Andrew’s eyes were dark, “I want the truth. Where were you.”

Neil let out a shaky breath, “Illinois. But can we sit down?”

“Why? Are your legs sore?” Andrew mocked.

“They’re not that bad. The stab wound’s getting annoying though.”

Andrew stilled. His eyes narrowed, “Show me.”

“I will,” Neil looked pointed down at Andrew’s hands, “On the couch.”

Andrew let go of him roughly, turning into the living room. Neil rubbed a hand through his newly bleached strands and took a deep breath. Then he followed.

He sat in his usual spot and lifted up his shirt before he could hesitate. He fixed his eyes on a far corner of the room, knowing he was revealing countless other scars in addition to the new one in the making. He flinched backwards into the arm of the couch when he felt fingers graze the bandages. The hand returned to its owner’s side.

He shook his head and met Andrew’s eyes, “It’s alright. It just hurts, is all.”

Andrew’s gaze bore into his for a little while longer before the fingers found the bandage again. He watched dry knuckles and veins flex in the pale hand as it worked the gauze off, skimming over the stitches. Neil sucked in a sharp breath.

“Who.”

Neil shook his head again, “My father’s men caught up to me. I’m not sure how. One of them’s dead, I lost the other.”

“They the ones who gave you that shiner too?”

“Yeah, could’ve been worse.”

His bandages were replaced, not necessarily neatly, but with care, “What about the other ones?”

Neil winced at the mention of his scars, “Ask me another day.”

Andrew accepted that and moved on. Neil once again wondered at the easy way his request was granted, “What were you doing in Illinois?”

Neil maneuvered his shirt gently back over his bandages, “Getting money.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow for him to elaborate.

Neil sighed, “One of our stashes was located there. It was the closest one and I couldn’t keep living paycheck to paycheck. Haven’t you used quite a lot of turns in our game?”

Andrew’s stare was unimpressed, but at least it wasn’t as angry anymore, “You owe me for four days of radio silence.”

“Fair enough,” Neil tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck enticingly, “I have other ways to pay you back though, you know.”

Andrew stood up abruptly, “No. I’m still pissed at you. You’re not getting a reward from this.”

Neil protested, “It’s not a reward, it’s-”

“Ah,” Andrew cut him off, holding up a finger, “We can discuss this again when you’re not bleeding out on my couch.”

Neil stared at his retreating back as he headed for his bedroom.

“And we’re getting you a fucking phone,” Andrew called from over his shoulder before slamming his door behind him.

Neil smiled to himself, small, but there, and stood up. Guess he should try and shower.

\--

“You guys have couple hair! _Tell_ me you did that on purpose.”

Almost two weeks had passed and Neil’s wound had finally closed for good, leaving Neil to wonder when Andrew would feed on him again. He’d been adamant about waiting, but now that it was healed, Neil had been itching to get Andrew alone. Unfortunately, the Friday night he was going to ask, Andrew got ready for work and told Neil he was coming with him.

Which left Neil with an enthusiastic Nicky messing with his hair, an Andrew lookalike, and the other man that was in the photo by the TV. 

“They’re different shades of blond. I just...Wanted to try something new,” _Wanted to change my appearance to lower my chances of getting shot._

“Well, I’ve gotta say, paired with those blue eyes you were hiding, it is definitely ‘something new’,” Nicky smiled wide, nudging his shoulder against Neil’s.

Andrew doppelganger, who was introduced by Nicky as Aaron, had taken one look at him and curled his lip, “ _You’re_ his new toy?”

Neil had mirrored the disgust right back, “ _You’re_ his brother?”

The lesser twin had scoffed and left the table, taking his drink with him.

The drinking man from the photo though...He hadn’t so much as _looked_ at Neil all night. He hadn’t said much of anything until a few drinks in, and even then he was only talking with Nicky. Neil also noticed he had a face tattoo that wasn’t visible in the picture. Some sort of chess piece, sitting starkly under his eye in black ink.

Neil slid away the fifth shot Nicky had tried to discreetly pass to him and moved to sit in Aaron’s vacated chair. He propped his elbow on the table, cradling his face in his hand, “You’re the guy from the picture in Andrew’s house. The one of the opening of Eden’s.”

The man visibly recoiled, a drawn out groan escaping his lips in the middle of taking a drink, “ _Fuck_. Is that photo still up?”

Neil’s lips quirked up, “Seems pretty proud of it too. Right out on the TV stand in the living room.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve tried to steal it from him? It always somehow ends up back there,” The man ran a distraught hand through his hair, eyes a bit hazy from alcohol.

Neil laughed, “Vampire’s are light on their feet, I’ve learned.”

The man shook his head in dismay, “Sneaky fuckers.”

Neil held out his hand, “Neil. What should I call the famed Man From The Photo?”

“Please just call me Kevin,” Kevin’s eyes finally focused on Neil and his eyebrows furrowed. He glanced at his outstretched hand and took it, but not to shake. He brought Neil’s wrist up to his nose before Neil could react, breathing in deeply. 

“What are you-”

“You’re human,” Kevin muttered against his skin.

“I-..Yeah. I’m aware,” Neil stared as Kevin started to rub his nose against Neil’s wrist in earnest, moving almost all the way up his forearm and back down again, “Okay. Uhm.” 

Kevin released him when he started to tug his wrist back, “Sorry. You smell good.”

Neil rubbed his wrist self-consciously, “Okay. Sure. Werewolf?”

Kevin nodded, eyes already on his drink again. It wasn’t hard to piece together based on Roland’s previous behavior and the rarity of humans in this club. 

Neil stood up. He was getting a bit overwhelmed with the new introductions and crowded nature of the club thrust upon him on what was supposed to be a quiet Friday night. He wanted to find Andrew, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

He wasn’t sure if any heard him over the music, but he didn’t really care. He headed to the bar, hoping beyond hope that Andrew would be on break. At a glance, he saw Andrew on his way, a familiar head of blond hair flashing at the edge of a crowd. However, upon closer inspection it turned out to be Aaron, teeth sunk into the throat of some brunette girl. It seemed incredibly odd to him to be doing something like that out in the open, but he supposed it must be pretty standard in a place like this.

He shook his head and finally reached the bar. He tried to search for Andrew above the crowd’s heads, but both of their unfortunate heights prevented that possibility. He took a deep breath and resigned himself to his fate. And started weaving and lightly pushing his way to the front of the bar. His hand bumped the counter and he wedged himself between a drunk girl covered in glitter and a man in a lime green mesh shirt. 

He spotted Andrew preparing a drink, black towel slung over his shoulder and an equally dark apron tied around his waist, “Andrew!”

He didn’t expect Andrew to be able to hear his call over the clamor of the club, but his eyes snapped up to meet Neil’s as if in tune with him. Neil pointed to the bathrooms in question.

Andrew answered with a thumb jutted out behind him, gesturing to the back. As Neil headed for the door to let him behind the counter, Andrew caught his eye again. He held up two fingers. _Two minutes_. Neil nodded and slipped into the back. 

He walked down a narrow hallway until he reached two doors. One was a storage room, and the other was a break room. It also contained Roland. He looked up from the sofa inquisitively.

“Uh, Andrew’s gonna be taking his break soon,” Neil gestured behind him vaguely.

Roland smirked, “Ah, I see how it is. Like the new look, by the way.”

Neil startled a bit when Roland ran a hand through his blonded strands, not even noticing that he had stood up. Roland didn't seem deterred, leaning down to whisper in his ear, ‘You know...Andrew and I used this room a lot too.”

Neil stiffened as Roland patted his shoulder on his way to the door, a self-satisfied smile spread across his face. He moved out of the way as it swung shut behind him. He didn’t know why he was bothered by what Roland had implied, but it wormed underneath his skin and simmered there.

He spun around as the door opened again and immediately brightened, “Andrew. Kiss me?”

Andrew leaned against the wall beside the door and held out a hand invitingly, despite his impassive expression. Neil happily complied, stepping closer and leaning forward. 

“You smell like wolf.”

“Well, you do have at least two of them here.”

Andrew brought Neil’s wrist to his nose and immediately dropped it, nose twitching, “Which idiot scented you?”

“Uh…” _Scented?_ “Kevin was rubbing his nose on that wrist, if that’s…”

Andrew sighed heavily and muttered, seemingly to himself, “Fucking idiot. Has no self-control.”

He curled his hand around the back of Neil’s neck and connected their lips, using his free hand to guide Neil’s up to his hair. Neil tangled his fingers in the soft strands, pressing closer. 

It was as if the world had been lopsided ever since he got back and it was only now righting itself again. The pieces of the puzzle fit together and the picture was completed. Andrew’s mouth moving against his was the answer to a question he didn’t know he was even asking until now. He pulled back just enough to breathe, “Bite me.”

“You’re needy today,” Andrew muttered back, but his lips trailed across Neil’s jaw, nipping every once and while, but not breaking the skin. It was maddening. He tilted his head to the left eagerly when Andrew’s mouth reached his neck, but Andrew still took his time, sucking a small mark right under his ear before continuing on. 

The pinch of pain associated with the bite was like a breath of relief after being underwater for minutes. His airways cleared and his vision was wiped clear. He slumped against Andrew in anticipation of the bite’s effects. 

When Andrew had drank his fill, Neil was achingly hard once again. He wanted to feel embarrassed about it, but he only felt _want_. He was hardly holding himself up on shaky legs. His eyes snapped up to Andrew’s when he felt fingers brush his zipper.

“Yes or no, Neil?”

“Yes,” Neil swallowed, pupils dilated, and cheeks flushed. He looked gone before they’d even started. 

Andrew’s calloused fingers fit around him and Neil gasped at the feeling. It might’ve been an overreaction, but every sense was heightened from the bite and Andrew’s hand felt like it left _fire_ in its wake. A rough thumb rubbed over the tip, spreading precum down his length and Neil let out a full body shudder, hands bracing themselves against the wall to keep himself steady. 

Andrew worked him over the edge, hard and efficiently, Neil muffling moans in the shoulder of Andrew’s t-shirt. Andrew reached beside him for a box of tissues as Neil panted in the wake of his orgasm. Neil glanced at the conveniently placed box of tissues. ‘ _Andrew and I used this room a lot too_.’

Andrew had just finished wiping off his hand and tossing the tissue when Neil solidified his decision, “Can I suck you off?”

Andrew paused from where he was retrieving a second tissue. He regarded Neil carefully. Then handed him the tissue, “Clean yourself up.”

Neil assumed that was a ‘no’ and he tried to swallow his disappointment. He wiped himself clean and zipped his pants back up, throwing the tissue in the wastebasket Andrew used. 

“On your knees. Hands behind your back.”

Neil met his eyes again, surprised. He blinked once. Then a smile worked its way across his face and he hurried to comply. 

Andrew stroked himself a couple of times while taking in the view of Neil on his knees, lips kiss swollen and ears and chest flushed bright red, “Tap my leg if you need to stop.”

“Okay,” Neil nodded quickly, eyes transfixed on Andrew’s hand rubbing mindless rhythms across himself.

When Andrew’s dick touched his lips, it occurred to him that he had no clue what he was doing. But he was damn well gonna try. He licked over the tip once, mouth moving to circle it entirely. He heard Andrew’s sharp intake of breath when his tongue teased the slit, so he figured that was a good thing to do.

As he bobbed his head to take in more of him, hollowing his cheeks, Andrew’s hands threaded through his hair, curling tightly. Neil groaned in appreciation of the feeling, and Andrew’s head leaned back against the wall at the vibrations. 

Neil had been slowly working his throat open, relaxing bit by bit, and his nose was now centimetres from Andrew’s lower stomach. He felt the hands in his hair tighten. He continued swirling his tongue, moving in a rhythm that only made sense to him.

“I’m gonna come,” Andrew muttered in warning, but Neil made no move to pull away. He instead, pushed himself as far as he could go, throat spasming a bit at the intrusion, tears welling in his eyes. But to feel Andrew’s length twitch and stutter in all corners of his mouth while hot come coated his throat? There was nothing else like it. 

He pulled away, gasping and licking his lips as he swallowed what Andrew had given him. He looked up Andrew to find him already watching him, eyes wider than normal, breathing labored. Neil pressed a quick kiss to the tip of Andrew’s dick and smiled up at him crookedly, “Go out with me.”

Andrew huffed out a breath, rolling his eyes, “Ask me again when you’re not high on vampire venom.”


End file.
